


these castle walls

by nextstopparis



Series: honey, i love you [6]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Angst, Arthur is only mentioned, F/M, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Post-Episode: s05e13 The Diamond of the Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-12
Updated: 2020-12-12
Packaged: 2021-03-10 17:01:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28020591
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nextstopparis/pseuds/nextstopparis
Summary: how could a castle be empty?
Relationships: Gwen/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Series: honey, i love you [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1843912
Comments: 6
Kudos: 9





	these castle walls

**Author's Note:**

> listen. gwen mourning arthur makes me EXTREMELY SAD. anyways I hope this is ok!!

For once, the corridors were empty. 

Part of her thought that maybe everyone was giving her her space, letting her mourn. Another part of her wondered if maybe she was just imagining the emptiness; too stuck in this hazy disbelief to notice anything else. After all, how could a castle be empty?

_ (How could it have ever been full?) _

It was, truly, a beautiful day - bright and clear; warm for winter. 

The sun - still there, despite the news she’d heard only hours ago from Percival claiming otherwise.  It wasn't a day for loss. Not a day for grief, a nd yet -

And yet Gwen struggled to breathe all the way back to their

_ (her) _

room. Why was there no one around?  _ How could a castle be empty? _

The doors slammed open, but the noise dissipated as quickly as it came; dispersed too suddenly in this vast and empty shell of a home. She wondered if anything ever lasted at all. She wondered if this pain would, or if it, too, would leave her.

(She wondered which one she’d prefer.)

Everything looked the same: their chairs were tucked carefully in the table; the bed looked as if it’d sprung up from the Earth, new and unused; their cupboard was closed, neat and tidy, and there wasn’t a piece of clothing in sight. 

And Gwen wanted to scream; to rage and collapse and cry and curse every maid or manservant for just doing their jobs because  _ any _ trace that her husband had lived like a real, breathing human being was wiped away. There was no cloak thrown across the back of a chair, or goblet sitting on his desk. The indent of his head on his pillow was fluffed away and his reports weren’t strewn on surfaces they shouldn’t’ve been; all neat and tidy and organized, and _not at all how he always kept them._

There was no evidence _at all_ that Arthur Pendragon came into that room to feel comfortable and at home. There was no evidence that he spent his mornings and afternoons and nights there, doing mundane tasks that made him more real and alive than anything else ever could, because they were things _everyone_ did. There was no evidence of his life to cling to, in lieu of him, because it had been cleaned away and - and she couldn’t -

She couldn’t move. Couldn’t go inside, or force her feet back out. She didn’t know how to breathe or stand or scream or mourn and the silence just felt too much or not enough or maybe both at the same time and -

_ (how could a kingdom be empty?) _

The sun filtered in from the east, and all she could see was a morning in August, when she’d woken up before Merlin (oh -  _ god _ \- Merlin) could come wake them himself. She had lifted her head, raising it from his chest to look around - she hadn't woken up that early in years - before her eyes had landed on him: hair ruffled in the same sheets they were tangled in, basked in the golden glow of early morning. 

She remembered the pure joy and satisfaction that had come with seeing him so soft and warm. She remembered wanting to stop time; wanting to bury her head in his neck and kiss his face and burrow in the safe surety of his arm. She remembered the way her chest had filled, how the feeling overwhelmed and encompassed her, setting as a heavy but warm weight in her bones.

_ (No wonder there was only emptiness now) _

Something wretched tore its way up her chest and out her throat, and Gwen could not bring herself to stop it. 

All at once there were strong arms around her,

(Arthur?) 

and she could only see a red cape encompassing silver; could feel the chill of chainmail through her dress;

(Arthur,)

could only tell that there were gentle hands guiding her forward, cupping her head as they tucked it into a neck.

( _Arthur._ )

She wanted to whisper Arthur's name - repeat it over and over again like a mantra - sure that maybe if she said it enough, he would finally reply; kiss her cheek and tug gently at her hair (because it was him; he was always there to take her into his arms when she was crying; it  _ had to be _ him).

But there was a low voice

(it wasn’t him)

a quiet hush in her ear

(it had to be)

too unfamiliar - too unknown and too unlearned - 

(it wasn’t him)

to be his.

Every last bit of her conviction slipped away - it would never be  _ him _ again - and Gwen let her knees crumble like the rest of her.

Her hollow organs knocked against her hollow bones, and she wept.

(How could anything be this empty?)

(How could it ever be full again?)

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> I miss arwen so fucking much. I miss arthur and I miss gwen and I miss them together. man to hell with this. I tried to do a weird format but I don't think it worked lmao jfsiofjsofijs.
> 
> thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoyed it!! :D


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